Title: The Joke
Author: Sweetdoggie (stirling_summer@yahoo.com)
Pairing: B/G
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Willow plays a fairly cruel joke and it backfires on her.
Spoilers: post season 3
Note: Don’t expect a lot of plot here. I changed the time line with Manchild and BTVS some too.

Disclaimer: No permission has been granted to use the characters. They are owned by their creator, Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, and Mutant Enemy. This story is non-profit and is intended solely as entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.

Xander sat on Willow’s bed while she typed stuff into her computer. She wore a wicked grin.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Will?”

“Yes. Hand me those pix of Giles, would you?”

He complied but continued to question her. “You realize, this is only going to be funny if neither one of them kills you, right?”

“They won’t have any idea who did it. You and I will make sure we’re down in LA for the day when they find the envelopes.” She scanned another picture of the Watcher into her database.

He watched in awe as she manipulated the pictures so that a very horny Giles was kissing a much intrigued Buffy. Somehow, Willow manipulated the pictures so that his hand was definitely grabbing her butt. Buffy had one leg around his thighs and both arms around his neck.

In another photo, Buffy, wearing very little, lay back provocatively spread-eagled on Giles couch. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly open as if panting. The Watcher knelt between her legs. Just looking at the shot, even knowing it was manipulated, made Xander adjust his jeans carefully.

The third photo contained Giles laying back on the floor, covered in sweat. Buffy stood straddling him holding a quirt. She was wearing kick-ass leather boots that hit her in mid-thigh and some sort of leather bustier thing. Xander had to wipe the sweat off his brow when examining that one.

“Will, some of these are maybe, um, a little over the top, don’t you think?”

“Nope.” She gave him a glance. “We have a goal here, Xand. These two people need a wake-up call. I’m going to see that they get it.”

“I dunno why you think they like each other that way. I’ve never seen it.”

“That’s because you’re just a guy. A relationship has to fall into your lap before you see it.”

She added three pictures each of both of them in various stages of undress. Xander didn’t even ask how she did it. There was even a shot of Giles wearing only an apron, doing something at his kitchen counter.

“Please tell me that’s a fakie?”

She rolled her eyes. “Duh. I culled the naked bits from a British comedy called Manchild. One of the guys looks a lot like Giles, but a little older. I tightened things up a little and voila!”

“Uh, would that be where you got the picture of Buffy with her hand in his pants?”

“Yeah. Pretty close match, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

“The one where she’s going down on him looks better. I mean, you get the look on his face and everything.”

“Eeep.”

Willow fed the glossy paper into her printer. By the time she was done, this was going to look real. She printed out two sets of each photo and then, on a whim, a third set. She wondered what the Council would make of the prints. She had already used the laser printer at the school computer lab to print mailing labels, plus she used gloves so that no fingerprints of hers remained anywhere on the files. One last spell magicked the items so that they couldn’t be traced back to her. She dropped them in the post and, without a backward glance made the arrangements for her and Xander to be in LA on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday this week. She knew the photos wouldn’t arrive before then. After that, she calmly called Buffy and set up a lunch date.

~*~

Buffy was feeling blue. Willow and Xander had gone out of town yesterday and she had wanted to accompany them, she couldn’t because of Slayage. It would leave her with only Giles for company. She had tried her damnedest not to be alone with him since graduation, but it seemed like they were continuously being thrown together without the Scooby chaperones, as she had taken to thinking of her friends.

It hadn’t been so bad when they were back in high school. She could see him everyday and get any fantasies out of the way without much problem, but ever since the destruction of the school, she had to find excuses to see him. She had stolen one of his shirts from his hamper while he was out jogging. The smell of it comforted her and led her dreams into X-rated pathways that her conscious mind prohibited. It had been enough at first, but gradually his scent faded from the garment and her desires grew in geometric proportions to the loss. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Luckily, nobody was aware of her secret desires. She walked outside to get the mail.

~*~

Giles had gotten up, jogged around the town on his daily run, and headed back to his flat. He had stopped to pick up his mail on the way in, noting the large yellow envelope but deciding to open everything after his shower and breakfast. Since he had set his clothing out before his run, he went directly to his bathroom and turned the water on.

Stripping out of his sweaty workout clothes, he tossed them into his hamper and stepped into the warm shower. He tried to avoid his usual fantasy of showering with Buffy, but the hope was insidious and he couldn’t help running his hands over his body and pretending it was her touching him. He had loved her so long that he couldn’t remember the first time the idea of actually making love to her had occurred to him—probably when she had bounced into his library in one of those tantalizingly short skirts that begged for a man’s hand to slip under them and…No! He wouldn’t go there again. It was wrong for him to think of his Slayer that way. He was virtually sure of it, despite the tiny voice saying that she would never know and it hurt no one.

He finished his shower feeling slightly ashamed of himself for his prurient fantasies and went to make breakfast. He was slicing his grapefruit when his eye fell on the mail once again. He reached for it and sorted it into junk and bills. The large envelope was postmarked Sunnydale, but had no return address. He wondered what it could possibly be and finally used his grapefruit knife to slice it open. He pulled the photos out and nearly fell off his chair. Good Lord!

It was as if somebody had dipped into his mind and pulled forth pictures of his most private fantasies. He studied the pictures and felt his body grow hard at the thoughts they provoked. Gods! He wanted her like this! His secret desires had provided ample fodder for erotica. If Buffy ever saw these photos, he was a dead man.

~*~

Buffy sipped a glass of juice while she glanced at the mail. Two bills, a flyer for a new gym, and a big yellow envelope. She tossed the bills into the box for her mom to look at, glanced at the flyer and threw it away then turned to the large piece of unidentified mail. She slit it open with her finger, managing to avoid a paper cut. A pile of glossy photos spilled out onto the counter and she felt her mouth drop open at the first sight of them. Oh My God! It was as if her thoughts about Giles had become public knowledge.

Her breathing picked up as she looked through the photos. She had dreamed some of this stuff just the night before. If Giles ever found out, he’d kill her! No, he’d leave her and that was worse. What was she going to do?

After mulling the whole thing over in her head for a solid hour, she realized that the only way to deal with this was to confront him. Somebody had made these shots that had come straight from her fantasies and that potentially meant they could read her mind. Thank God they hadn’t made pictures of some of the more graphic dreams she had had. These were bad enough. She gathered the envelope to her breast and set out to find her Watcher.

Approaching his door, she quailed, knowing this was going to be the most embarrassing hour of her life. Knocking tentatively, she half hoped he wouldn’t be home. Instead he was unusually prompt in opening the door.

“B, B, Buffy! Ah, you’re here.”

“Yeah. Um, something came up, kinda, and um, I suppose we need to talk.”

He glanced down and saw the yellow envelope in her hand. “Good Lord! Don’t tell me you received a mailing as well?”

She looked up, surprised. “You got one too?”

“Ah, yes. That is, I’m assuming yours contain, um, similar subject matter?”

“You and me having a real good time?”

“Y, yes.” He led her to his couch before retrieving his group of photos from the kitchen. “Will, will you trade?”

“I guess.” She handed him her packet and glanced at his. They were the same.

His face red as a cherry, he looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “I don’t know how to apologize enough for this, Buffy. I never meant for you to know.”

She looked up from her contemplation of her hands at his words. “Know? All that I know is that somebody pulled this stuff directly from my head. I’m so sorry, Giles. I…” She took in the meaning of his sentence. “Wait, you mean, you were thinking about this stuff too?”

“Every bloody day for years.”

“Me too!” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been wanting me and I’ve been wanting you, and we both thought the other person wanted somebody else. This is choice, I have to say.”

“Let’s examine those pictures more closely. We may be able to get a clue as to who created them.”

She nodded and they spread the pictures on his coffee table. The minute they began examining them closely, they could see that they were fakes.

“Look, that isn’t even my body!” Giles pointed out excitedly.

“How can you tell?” Buffy asked looking at the buttocks being flashed in the photo.

“Well, actually, um, I have a small tattoo on my right, er, hip.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s see it.”

“Buffy!”

“Oh come on! We have to have evidence that this isn’t real. If you show me your tat, I’ll show you something on mine that proves it’s not real too.”

He looked intrigued. Her face was eager though she tried to school it into what she hoped looked like scientific inquiry.

He stood up and undid his belt, then his trousers. Turning his back to her, he let them fall to the floor before pulling his boxer shorts down to below his buttocks. She could see the tat for herself now.

There was silence in the room while she contemplated her name engraved on his butt. Her hand came out of its own volition and stroked the tempting haunch from his waist to his lower thigh. She heard him gasp as her fingers crept back up and ran tauntingly over the line that separated his cheeks.

“Do you mean what you are implying with that touch, Buffy?”

“Yeah, I do. Want to see my proof that these are fake?”

He turned around and her eyes were drawn to his erect cock. “Very much so.”

She reached for her blouse and pulled it off over her head. Since she had forgone a bra this left her bare from the waist up. She pointed to the photo of her spread-eagled on his couch. “Whoever that is doesn’t have this scar.” She ran a hand over her breast down to her navel where a largish scar shown white against the tan of her skin.

The Watcher in him wanted to question how she came to have such a scar, but the man in him wanted to lave her body with his tongue and lips and to know every inch of her. The man won. He knelt in front of her and let his tongue lap at the edges of the scar that disappeared under the waistband of her jeans.

He unfastened the snap and pulled her pants down her legs, catching her underwear at the same time. He followed the scar with his lips before letting his face drop into her groin. Rubbing his nose and chin against her, he imprinted her scent in his memory as one of the most glorious things he had ever experienced.

Her hands came to rest on his shoulders while she stepped out of the rest of her clothing, kicking her shoes off at the same time. She stood naked before him and he could clearly see that the pictures lied. Her breasts were voluptuous, though overall she was too thin. He made a mental note to fatten her up a bit.

She tugged on the collar of his shirt and his hands unfastened the buttons without taking his eyes off her. In seconds he was as naked as she and pushed her back on the couch so he could kneel between her spread legs as the photo had depicted. He loved her with his mouth, first eliciting whimpers, then moans, then finally a scream as she climaxed against his lips. Climbing up her body, he kissed her, letting her taste the fruits of his love for her on his lips.

Her hands roved his body, stroking his chest, marveling at the contours of his belly and hips. She licked his hip in the hollow spot just above his groin and he couldn’t help the reflexive thrust towards her. Buffy bit him for his impatience, leaving teeth marks just above the hollow. She growled at him and it sent a wave a delicious terror through his body.

Buffy didn’t leave an inch of his form unexplored and he basked in her fervor. When he didn’t think he could stand another second without having her, she pushed him backward on the floor and pinned his arms above his head. Straddling his hips, she slid her moist core over him, back and forth till he was lodged in position. He tried to thrust into her, but she backed off slightly. A whimper passed his lips.

“God, Buffy! Now!”

She obediently settled down on him, letting him slide into her body his full length before gripping him tightly with her inner muscles. Buffy slid almost entirely off him and then pushed herself down, all the while holding her muscles tightly clenched around him.

Giles felt like he was gripped by a fist of warm, moist velvet. As she glided over his most sensitive points, he thrust upwards, banging himself on her cervix. Buffy flexed something inside her and his orgasm was drawn from him like being shot from a cannon. Seconds later, she followed him, collapsing on his chest to catch her breath.

Ten minutes passed while they drifted on the cloud of contentment their release had left before Giles spoke. “Why don’t we move this to my bedroom?”

“Okay. I have carpet burn on my knees anyhow.”

He rolled to his feet and picked her up in his arms.

“Don’t hurt your back, Giles. I have plans for it.”

He looked down into her face. “My back is fine. I have a few plans of my own.”

“Oh yeah!”

Later, she decided it was a good thing they went upstairs when they did. If they had waited, she wouldn’t have been able to move.

It was mid morning of the next day before either of them thought of the photos again. Giles gathered them up and they examined them together.

“They’re pretty good at first glance—and the subject matter is so shocking that you don’t really look past that bit for quite a while,” Buffy pointed out.

“Yes, but after studying them, you can see the seams and joins fairly easily.”

“Who do you think did this?”

“I don’t know. Any ideas?”

Buffy paused in thought. “I dunno why, but I think it was Willow.”

“Willow? Why on Earth would she do something like this?”

“Maybe a joke that got a little out of control? Maybe she thought it would open our eyes to how we felt about each other?”

“It seems a rather risky way to do such a thing.”

“Worked though.”

“There is that.”

“I think we need to make plans. First of all, if it was Willow, she doesn’t deserve to know her plans worked. It took ten years off my life when I thought somebody had been reading my mind.”

“Myself as well. What do you suggest?”

“We go about our daily routine without saying anything. You know Willow; she won’t be able to resist saying something to one of us for long.”

“But I want to see you everyday!”

“Would you settle for training three times a week—we can use some excuse that you found some sort of prophesy in a foreign language that Willow doesn’t understand and I can stop by most nights after patrol.”

“I thought you might want to start dating,” his voice sounded saddened.

“I’d love to, but we need to find the culprit here first.”

“So this is just temporary? Hiding our love, I mean?”

“Of course. I love you and I don’t care who knows it. But I also want to catch our little photographer.”

“Oh, very well. What will we do if it turns out not to be Willow?”

“Then we can kill something.”

He grinned. “That sounds like a great deal of fun.”

Willow and Xander came home on Sunday morning not exactly sure of what they’d find with their two friends, but the last thing they were expecting was…nothing. Buffy answered Willow’s phone call with happy chatter asking what they had done and who they had seen in LA.

The Witch was floored. She had thought that Buffy and Giles would, at least be making an effort to find out who had sent them the photos. She had really thought her efforts would bring them together.

“Uh, seen Giles lately?” the red head inquired.

“Yeah, for training yesterday. He’s got some new technique he thinks I should learn.”

“Really? How was he?”

“Giles? He was the same, why?”

“Oh, um, no reason.”

The girls talked for a few more minutes before they rang off. Willow didn’t know what to do. Her plan had apparently failed. Buffy wasn’t upset about the photos. Wait! How about Giles? She got on the phone again.

“Rupert Giles here,” he answered.

“Oh, um, hi, Giles. It’s Willow.”

“Hello Willow. What can I do for you?”

“Um, Xander and I just got back from LA and we were wondering how things were going in Sunnydale. Any new big bads to fight?”

“Nothing on the horizon so far,” Giles said, suppressing his glee. Clearly, the young Wicca was on a fishing expedition and was coming back with her bait taken, but no fish on the hook.

“Oh. Well. Uh, I guess, if nothing’s going on, I’ll let you go then.”

“Goodbye, Willow.”

“Right. Goodbye.”

She set the phone down. Surely they had gotten the photos by now? Even the U.S. snail mail service couldn’t possibly be that slow, could they? Maybe they could. She decided to give it another couple of days.

~*~

Quentin Travers went into the office early that Monday. He had quite a backlog of paperwork and needed to spend an uninterrupted period to deal with it. He had already been working at it for three hours when his secretary brought in his mail.

“Good morning, Mr. Travers.”

“Good morning, Smithers.”

“You appear to have received some post from Sunnydale, sir.”

Travers looked up. Mail from the Hellmouth. The irony was not lost. He took the envelope. It wasn’t addressed in script. Rupert Giles would never, in a thousand years use a computer, so he wondered what the missive was. He slit the flap and pulled out the photos.

The yell he gave could be heard at the other end of the building. His secretary was busy trying to force a glass of water on him when a dozen senior Watchers burst into his office.

“Good Lord, Quentin! Did you sit on a nail? I was down in the library and heard you bellowing. Whatever is the matter?”

Quentin handed the photos to his companions. There was a murmur of shocked exclamations and groans of disgust.

“How could Rupert Giles do such a thing?” one unidentified voice asked in horror.

“Why is he wearing an apron?” somebody else wanted to know.

“Who’d have thought a man his age would be quite so…athletic?” queried another.

Quentin was finally coming out of his shock. “Plane. Get me on a plane to LA, right away!”

~*~

Buffy and Giles were having a great time tormenting Willow. She kept watching them whenever they were together and they were very careful to reveal nothing, simply going about their daily business with no hint that anything had happened between them.

Willow wondered aloud to Xander about Buffy’s extra training, but Xander shrugged it off saying Giles had told him of a very suspicious prophecy he had found and wanted to make sure Buffy was at the top of her abilities.

The witch was so frustrated; she thought she might scream from the sheer need to know what had happened. In all her wild imaginings, she had never thought that absolutely nothing would come of her endeavors. Buffy and Giles seemed friendly, but then, when he wasn’t trying to poison her, or she wasn’t blowing him off for a boy, they often seemed just as congenial.

They were all gathered at the Magic Box on Thursday morning, when the shop door slammed open and Quentin Travers with an entourage of four sycophants or maybe Watchers-in-training followed him in. He looked furiously angry. Storming up to Giles, he pulled the pictures from his breast pocket and threw them down on the countertop.

Giles merely looked at him, one eyebrow raised in a very Spock-like inquiry. “Is there a problem, Quentin?”

“Problem? I’d say that there is a definite problem. How do you explain that?” He pointed dramatically to the photos.

Giles walked over to the envelope, picked up the pictures, and thumbed through them before calling Buffy over to confer. They whispered together for a couple of moments before turning back to the aggrieved Watcher.

“Well, what do you want us to say?”

“Why are you two posing for obscene photographs? Have you no sense of propriety, decorum? For God’s sake man, she’s half your age!”

“Why are you upset about a set of obviously faked photographs?” Giles enquired mildly. “We each received copies ourselves over a week ago.”

“Fake! Fake! Are you sure?” Quentin was grasping at straws now.

“Of course I’m bloody sure,” Giles told him with a perfectly straight face.

Buffy glanced up from her perusal of the pictures. “Yeah, anybody can see this isn’t us. What’s wrong with you, anyhow?”

Quentin bravely fought back the urge to cringe. “So, you’re saying that these pictures are fakes?”

“Of course!” Giles said, letting his voice grow cross.

“Who would do such a thing?” the elder Watcher asked.

Buffy shrugged. “Probably just a stupid joke, no big.”

“I expect you to investigate this, this outrage and punish the perpetrator!” Quentin exposited.

“We’ll take care of it, Quentin.” Giles voice was soothing.

The older man threw him a face-saving glare and with great aplomb, exited the shop with his cronies.

Willow and Xander, looking very pale, sat still as stones. Finally, the witch couldn’t stand it any longer.

“How did you know they were fakes?”

Buffy slipped her arm around Giles’ waist, letting her hand slide down to cup his right buttock. “That guy in the apron wasn’t Giles. He didn’t have the tattoo.”

“Yes and it was immediately clear that the young woman in question wasn’t Buffy. Anyone familiar with her body would know that at a glance.” Giles turned towards his Slayer and allowed his hand to slide down her front, smoothing over her stomach suggestively. “There are some very obvious differences.”

Willow and Xander watched the other couple in shock. “You, you and her…Buffy! You and Giles? When, why didn’t I know about this?”

“Geez, Willow! Giles and I have said right from day one that Watchers and Slayers have a special relationship. What did you think we were talking about?”

Giles slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Time for some ‘special’ training, don’t you think, love?”

“Sounds like a plan, Watcher-mine!”

They exited the store and managed to get around the corner before breaking down in laughter so intense they could barely stand. Buffy finally put her arms around him to give him a hug. “I just love you so much, Giles.”

“And I you, dear heart.” He bent down and placed a kiss on her lips, a gesture that began innocently enough, but ended up with her pushed back against the side of the building while he ravaged her mouth. They didn’t notice that Willow and Xander, disbelieving their story had come hunting them.

The Scooby pair fell backward, deeply shocked at the clearly unstaged kiss. Xander turned to Willow.

“If they were lying before, they sure aren’t now!”

“I kinda got that impression myself.”

“Guess they didn’t need any help from you to get together!”

“I guess not.”

“This give a whole ‘nother meaning to Watcher/Slayer bonding.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think I’m gonna be extra careful about knocking when I go over to see Giles from now on.”

“Good plan.”

~end~